Hymn for Cowboys Led Astray
by mvdiva
Summary: Completed. He led a life as a member of one of the most violent syndicates on Mars, killing and eventually falling in love with the wrong person. In one last attempt to make things right, memories long dormant finally come to the surface. Rated for langua
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer:** As always, Cowboy Bebop and all its characters belong to Sunrise, Inc. and its creative geniuses. Please forgive me if Spike seems a little out of character on this or any of my other CB stories. My flair for the dramatic sometimes gets to be too much. Much love to any readers kind enough to leave me reviews.

_I__ never wanted to pretend I'm something that I'm not. Yet somehow, I managed to land here, with a group of sideshow circus freaks starving for a bounty and us all living in our own emotional hells. It's kind of ironic, considering my track record of starting out as one of the bad guys and ending as one chasing them down for a living. It's funny how life can come full-circle sometimes. Bad man to good man trying to redeem himself, living by whatever orders he gives himself to get by in this waste of time called life, or some crap like that. _

_In my mind, however, things hadn't always been like that. A person with the will to become a Red Dragon never questioned his orders once he was proved himself and was IN. To be IN meant you'd be eternally grateful for the protection of the Syndicate, and willing to do whatever you could to protect it. Even if it meant your life. The Syndicate was always right; to deny that was to deny the air filtering in and out of your lungs. Either way meant death._

_When I was young and still stealing fruit from the street vendors on Mars, I wasn't exactly sure what the Syndicate was. All I knew was that I wanted to be one of its members: men in the long trench coats with the rich clothes and a sense of danger hovering about them like the young women who hang on an old millionaire, sipping champagne and giggling like idiots._

_The day Mao Yenrai caught me trying to pickpocket him was probably the best and worst day of my life. The small Asian man grabbed my arm, and instead of threatening to cut it off like most of my other victims had, he smiled down at me._

_Panicking, I struggled to get out of his grasp. I had lived on the streets for 6 years since my father had died when I was only five, but it had given my young mind the insight to know that a smile could be more dangerous than a sneer from a stranger. _

_Instead of taking me into a back alley like I feared, Mao took me to his headquarters, and I had my first view of the giant building that housed my future. The Red Dragons took me in. I had Mao to vouch for me, even though he was only just a rising star in the business, people listened to him._

_Before I knew it, I was one of the trench coats. Mao took me into his lavish apartment, and became the father I had lost so many years ago. The years went well for me. I suppose that's all I can really say now. _

_I learned to fight, I learned to shoot, and I learned to view the Red Dragons as my home and family. In short, life was good. A little too good, perhaps. I was never really able to trust any of my fellow Dragons, but then I met Vicious._

_Two years younger than my scant 17 years, Vicious was the opposite of everything I had become. Where I excelled with a gun, he ruled with the sword. Looking back, I suppose it would be fair to say he was jealous of me, but I had no idea at the time. Being taken in at such an early age-especially under the wing of Mao-I had quickly became the beloved child, and had no wish to give up my position within the Syndicate._

_Vicious had no chance. He came in off the streets much as I had, but on his own accord. I never did learn much about his past; maybe he trusted others about as much as I did. Nevertheless, we became fast friends._

_Known for his vicious swordsmanship and quick thinking in a fight, the white-haired mystery soon became as well-known as I was, but there was a difference. Everyone feared him. Where I would laugh and smile at a joke, he would simply glare until the joke teller found some polite excuse to remove themselves from his presence. Once, he admitted to me that this pleased him to no end. I had merely shook my head and smiled, somewhat afraid myself to see the cold glint in his eyes._

_More years flew by, and Vicious and I had grew to be like brothers. We always watched each other's back in a fight. Sometimes it was eerie how we would move, back-to-back, like a two-headed serpent striking out at its enemies. I never questioned my loyalty to Vicious, or his to mine. We were a team, only to be separated upon death. _

_I guess the beginning of the end started the day Mao chose me to head up a group whose objective was revenge on a band of thugs who had the balls to jump one of our own men out for a stroll one night. The Dragon, Briez Whitman, was still in the hospital, recovering from a broken right leg, fractured left arm, and a stab wound to his right side. _

It was supposed to be a simple job, really. All I had to do was lead my band into the hideout, and wait until the gang leader made an appearance. From there, it would be easy to give him a taste of Red Dragon vengeance and send a warning to the rest of his thugs and any other criminal scumbags that we would not put up with their antics. Sounds easy, right? Wrong.

From the beginning, I had a feeling in my gut that something was different. Not really wrong, but somehow like the air had changed on this showdown, and I didn't like it. I tried to keep my cool in front of my men, but Vicious as my right-hand was acting strangely himself.

The leader of the gang crawled out of his hole around 5:03pm. By 5:10, he was dead and the mission was over. Valadez, one of my men, had gotten himself shot in the left shoulder scuffling with one of the gang leader's underlings. But aside from a few scrapes and bruises, everyone was fine. Except me.

Oh, physically I was fine. The adrenaline was still pumping when I got back to my own apartment, and I shucked off my gun and holster as I dropped my coat and shucked off my boots. My hands were shaking as I sank down onto my bed. Vicious had openly defied my order to not expose himself until I took the first shot.

Thankfully, the white-haired man was a decent shot, and he got the leader right in the forehead. I had held back while my men ran in, cursing Vicious' action under my breath. My best friend... God, why? He hadn't exactly betrayed me, but I felt like he had anyway. To make a fool of me in front of my men, on my first command mission! I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time that night, wondering what had gotten into him.

At last, I dropped back onto the deep red comforter. Vicious would have to be dealt with in the morning; by then I'd have things under control, just the way I liked it. With a sigh, I crawled up to my pillows and fell into a deep troubled sleep filled with dream images of white-haired demons with cold eyes full of hatred.


	2. Where the Wind Blows

**Disclaimer:** Cowboy Bebop belongs to Sunrise, Inc. As much as I love Spike, this means he doesn't belong to me…anyway, shall we continue?

**Chapter 2: **Where the wind blows

I gradually became aware of the morning and drifted up out of sleep. Bright sunbeams streamed through the blinds covering the window near my bed as I stretched and sat up. It would have been a beautiful day had it not started out so poorly.

My eyes (both still real, not the strange mismatched colors that greet me every morning in the mirror now.) trained on the small movement from the corner. Vicious raised a hand to cover a feigned yawn from the chair in the corner.

"Really Spike, you should start getting up earlier." He turned to grin at me, an icy smile that conveyed no real humor. "You missed a glorious sunrise, by the way." I swallowed, still trying to understand how he had gotten into my high-security apartment.

Deciding to shake off the shivers that ran down my back, I favored him with a smile and stretched again. "Aside from trying to figure out how long you've been sitting there, I'd like to thank you for not bringing that bird in here." I grinned. "You know how much I hate sending you the cleaning bill for getting bird crap out of my carpet." Vicious smirked, and my memory of last night's near-fiasco filtered back into my mind.

I moved to sit on the edge of my rumpled bed. Wearing only shorts myself, I glanced at the bulky trench coat that my closet cohort wore. He could have practically a whole arsenal concealed in those folds, and I would be dead in my boxers before I could make a move. He must have noticed my glances, because Vicious spread the jacket open, revealing his gray cardigan and a suspicious lack of any weapons.

My look of surprise earned a small snort of real amusement, and I looked up to see the eyes of my best friend had replaced the cold eyes that greeted me from sleep. "Come. Mao want to see both of us in his office." In spite of myself, I felt an eyebrow rise in confusion.

If Mao wanted to see us, something big was either on its way, or already here. Either way, the implications couldn't be good. The small Asian man was my mentor, yes, but no one ever enjoyed a summons to stand in front of that large imposing desk. Could this have something to do with last night? Maybe-

"Spike." I broke my chain of thought. Vicious stood above me, pointing at his watch. "He wanted us there in twenty minutes." I nodded. "I'll meet you there as soon as I'm dressed." I told him. Vicious nodded, and stalked, rather calmly for him, out of my room. Sighing, I bent and began to gather the now wrinkly clothes from off the floor.

I took probably the fastest shower in the history of man, and dressed. There was no time to properly shave; I'd probably cut my face to ribbons. Soon I was out the door and practically running down the street to the familiar headquarters. The doorman greeted me, and I was on the elevator, keying in my pass code for access to the upper levels of the building.

When I stepped out, Mao's secretary, a young brunette woman with purple eyes waved me in, not even looking up from her computer screen. This couldn't be a good sign. Usually I had to haggle my way to the door around the countless others trying to see Mao. Today, the waiting area stood empty and silent.

I swallowed and knocked; trying to keep up a polite protocol until I knew what this was all about. The lack of Mao's customarily cheery "Come in!" further set me on guard as I pushed open the elaborate red and gold door. Mao sat behind his desk on my right with Vicious already seated in the better of the two chairs facing him. He didn't stand up as usual to greet me, but motioned that I should take the remaining seat.

I sat silently while Mao stared at both of us. Under his heavy glare, I felt like squirming, but settled for tapping my fingers against my thigh. The older man finally looked down, shuffling papers around in front of him. "I suppose you both know why you're here." He said without preamble. "Yesterday's strike against the Scarred Hand group almost didn't happen. I've read the reports from the rest of your men, Spike, but I still can't figure out why their leader wasn't simply assassinated as planned."

He sat back in his chair and spread his hands. "And poor Valadez…the doctors say he's stable, but the shoulder, hell, the whole arm might have to be replaced." I kept my poker face as Mao leaned towards me, in a pleading posture. "I need to know _why_, Spike. There shouldn't have been any injuries at all. It was a quick in-and-out deal."

I glanced over at Vicious. He sat, stony faced. How could I possibly explain to Mao that Vicious had disobeyed an order, especially while he was in the room? "I had faith in both you boys." Mao said slowly. "Usually you do such a good job with whatever I assign you." He heaved a sigh. "Regardless of yesterday, I've got a new assignment for you." I looked up at him, expecting to see him looking back at me, but to my surprise, he was looking at Vicious, and the silver-haired man was nodding slowly.

What? Because Vicious screwed up and I didn't have the balls to report it, somehow HE was getting leader on the next job? "Hey, wait a minute…" I trailed off. Mao looked at me expectantly. When I didn't continue, he shook his head. I could feel Vicious' eyes on me, drilling into the left side of my head. Oh, the unfairness of it all. I shut my mouth with a snap.

The old man went on to outline our next assignment. My eyes widened as Mao went on to explain that the White Dragons wanted peace between our two Syndicates, and we would be playing bodyguard to an ambassador. Vicious sat silent through the briefing, giving a curt nod occasionally to show that he was still paying attention.

"I need to know that you two will do your best to see that this goes through. None of us can live like this anymore, constantly watching over our shoulders to see who wants us dead." A slight shiver of recognition went down my spine as Mao's eyes looked out the giant bay windows. His wife, a beautiful innocent woman, had been gunned down by a White Tiger operative over five years ago. How could he sign a peace agreement with the people responsible for that?

Before I knew it, Mao had concluded the meeting, and we were on the elevator, back down to the lower levels. I glanced over at Vicious to see his reaction to the latest mission, but he stared straight at the doors and didn't speak a word to me when they opened. He walked away before I could say anything to stop him, and I watched his retreating back as I wondered what exactly was going on. I could have sworn that he had been smiling, but now I wasn't so sure.

The grumble of my stomach finally reminded me that standing in the middle of the hallway wasn't going to make the hunger go away, and I began to walk down the hall to the kitchens. As I walked, my mind was left to wonder why I felt such a foreboding for the mission. It was three days away, and I didn't know what to expect. No one had ever talked or even whispered about peace between the Syndicates. It seemed as if a whole new future was spread before us, but I was wary about taking the first steps towards it.

And that smile. It made me wonder what Vicious had to hide.


	3. Just Tumblin' Along

**Disclaimer:** Once again, Cowboy Bebop doesn't belong to me. I'd like to thank Sunrise, Inc. for letting them off the shelf so I can play with them once again. Forgive me if I mess around a little with the timeline and fight scenes. At this point, I'm not exactly sure where Spike's past is leading to on this story, so it should be a blind ride for all of us. Onward, ho!

**Chapter 3:** Just tumblin' along

I stood in front of the mirror three days later, wearing my heavy trench coat and armed to the teeth. It really didn't make me nervous to know that I had several types of heavy explosives tied to me, although it would now; maybe I've managed to get a little wiser in my age. Sometimes I wonder how I avoided being shipped back to HQ like a jigsaw puzzle. One of my reoccurring dreams had been opening a box to find my face broken into pieces like cheap ceramic. I shook myself out of the horror of the image, and felt for the holster on my side for the reassuring weight of the gun that hung there.

My preferred weapon at the time was a sleek Glock 31. I juggled the gun in one hand, balancing the perfect weight on my palm as my reflection looked on with amusement. With any luck, I wouldn't need any weapons for this "peace delegation", but there were never any guarantees in life; especially mine.

There was a knock at my door. Before I could open my mouth to say "Come in", Vicious was there, gesturing for me to hurry up. I nodded as my black-figured reflection stared back at me. This could be the last time I got to stand in my own apartment for a while; maybe even forever, and I wanted to make the last minutes stretch out just a little longer.

The expensive watch on my wrist beeped gently, and I sighed. This was it.

Half an hour later, Vicious and I stood before a large white building similar to our own headquarters. The twenty Dragons with us were probably younger than my own 21 years, and their nervous shifting from foot to foot echoed their youthfulness.

There was a click at the armored door, and a man twice my size stepped through. As he gestured us inside, his arm muscles rippled beneath the fabric of his expensive suit. I gulped, thinking that this guy could probably snap me in half before I could get my gun out.

And then we were inside, in the White Tiger lobby surrounded by members all heavily armored. The business end of each gun tracked our group as we followed the brawn down the hall to a set of large bronze doors, emblazoned with the White Tiger symbol. He pushed them open without any effort, and Vicious, smirking, strode through confidently.

When I moved to follow him, one of my men, Ben Waite grabbed my arm. I turned my head to ask him what he was doing, and then the doors slammed shut. Startled out of my question, I looked up. Every gun in the room was trained on our group.

My mind raced. What the hell? Had Vicious set us all up? There was no way we could expect to get out of this. And Mao? Did he know about this? What was Vicious doing behind those doors? He sure as hell wasn't going to be negotiating with the Tiger leader while all his men were massacred outside.

Above me, an old wrinkled man stepped to the edge of the catwalk that circled the lobby. "If you would all please set your weapons down, I will make sure none of you are harmed during our… _negotiations._" He smiled down on all of us like a scientist trying to make a rat drink the poison.

"I'll be damned before I let myself be shot like a sucker." I muttered, clutching the Glock in my pocket. Several my men nodded agreement; looking nervously between me and the wrinkled prune on the catwalk. The old man nodded, and I heard the ripple of hammers clicking into place. "Ready?" I mouthed to the Dragon closest to me. He swallowed nervously and nodded.

The pin in my pocket pulled out from the small grenade with a 'click', and I swallowed. _Here goes nothing._ I thought, and flipped the small object out of my coat. A small nudge sent it rolling across the floor, and I caught myself wondering if I would be coming back from this one in little pieces like my recent dreams had predicted.

A wave of heat and light enveloped me as I was thrown to the ground. There was pain in my head, a blinding white pain a million times worse than the explosion, and I could feel warm blood trickling down my face. _My eye!_ I tried to touch, to stop the bleeding, but the piece of shrapnel embedded there couldn't be moved.

I stood up, woozy, as bullets danced around me. One grazed my right sleeve, and I lost my balance stepping over a body and fell again. This time I rolled until my back touched a wall. I scrambled up, Glock in hand. I was safe from the immediate threat from the catwalk overhead, but the bullet that had shredded my right sleeve had apparently done more damage to my right arm than I originally thought.

The hand worked fine, but blood flowed freely from a thin line over my tricep. I muttered to myself, tearing off a strip of cloth from my shirt and winding it around my arm. Lucky for me no one was shooting into the shadows, or I would have been a dead man long ago.

It was hard to see in the dim light with one good eye. I crouched down, trying to tell my men from the Tigers still fighting. The count wasn't good. There was a handful that was still standing, but even more Red Dragon coats littered the floor. Intent on picking off a few enemies before I collapsed from blood loss, I never heard the Tiger sneaking up behind me. One minute I was aiming at a man about to shoot Ben Waite in the back of the head, and the next, a solid weight came down on the back of my skull. As they say, everything went black.


	4. Games People Play

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Cowboy Bebop. However, I am probably using Spike's background to make it suit my own purposes. I think my deep desire with this story overall was to put my spin on the timeline of Spike's past. How he lost his eye, how he met Julia, and how things went so horribly wrong with Vicious. Thanks for all the reviews so far, everyone. I'm going to try to make updates on Mondays to give myself plenty of time. Thanks for being patient.

**Chapter 4: **Games People Play

I drifted in a comfortable black haze while a war raged around me. It sounds so wonderfully dramatic that way. While I played Sleeping Beauty on the floor of the White Tiger Syndicate, the remainder of my men stayed alive long enough to kill the enemy that surrounded us.

Obviously I wasn't exactly taking notes on the happenings, but once the area had been secured, somebody realized I had wandered off. Dunno where I went to, but they found me and I was dragged to the nearest Dragon stronghold. A team of doctors (under Dragon employment, of course) slapped a cybernetic eye in my skull to replace the one that had been poked out by flying shrapnel.

I drifted in sleep for three days. Surprisingly, I dreamed of the girl, Julia, who I had met a few weeks back at the Dragon bar. A memory, really. A memory of Vicious' girl.

Shin and I had been playing an innocent game of pool in the bar, where the patrons mostly comprised of Red Dragon members. We were drinking, and eying any girl that walked by us. Just another normal night. And then Vicious came in, wearing his traditional black trench coat. He walked across the bar to us, and I noticed something was different. He had always had a strange gait, a soldier's precise quickstep left over from his time on loan from the Syndicate to the Titan war; but it was different today, lighter somehow.

He came over to us, smiling in that oddly cold way of his, and said he had someone to introduce. Naturally our curiosity was intense-Vicious had never introduced either Shin or myself to anyone outside the Syndicate before. And never had anyone had the honor of being introduced with a smile from the silver enigma.

I was about to grab another beer off the counter when she turned around at Vicious' call. She nodded at him, and then she glanced at me. I stood there hanging on to my pool cue as if it was a lifeline. I can't remember now if my mouth hung open or not as she floated over to us.

Floated is the only word that comes to mind. How else would an angel travel? Well, not a typical angel, with wings and a harp like the Earth stories, but an angel nonetheless. Blonde hair was held back by a pair of dark sunglasses on her head, and she wore a shiny, tight black cat suit, leaving little to the imagination. Piercingly blue eyes shifted, and were locked with Vicious' own silver ones. Heads turned as she made her stately way over to our little group.

I had enough self-control to look away before any unwelcome thoughts could make their presence known to the rest of my companions. Beside me, Shin was gaping like a fish on its last dying breath. I would have laughed if the air in my lungs hadn't been mysteriously sucked out, but I managed to nudge him out of his stupor in time for Vicious to reach out and put an arm protectively around her shoulders.

She nodded politely to Shin, and then those intelligent blues were on me as I was introduced by Vicious. "This is Spike, the lovechild of the Syndicate and adoptive son of Mao Yenrai." The ruby red lips turned up on one side as she smirked. The laughter touched her eyes for a second before it was gone, replaced by a tinge of sadness.

"It's nice to meet you, Spike." She said, and then turned and nuzzled the silver-haired man under the right side of his jaw. "Vicious has told me all about you." I swallowed against a sudden lump in my throat as Vicious reached out and stroked the delicate skin of her face.

"Only good things, I hope." I managed. Julia chuckled, a deep hearty sound and Vicious lowered his arm to grab her hand in a protective grip. "Only the best." She agreed, and looked up at her protector. I looked at Vicious. I'll always remember the look in his eyes as he stared at her profile, because it was the only time I ever saw any kind of real emotion there.

He loved her. By God, the silver-haired demon loved another person other than himself. If the shock hadn't knocked me out, his next words to me would have. Julia had gone, at Vicious' insistence, to play a round of darts with Shin.

I had just finished racking the balls for a new game, and as I straightened, Vicious moved to my side. He bent close to my right ear. "She's mine, you know." I nodded and squinted, mentally aiming for my first shot once Shin got back. "Keep that in mind, Spike."

Somewhat hurt that he would think about me moving in on his girl, I turned to face him. Vicious stared at me, eyes narrowed to little slits. I tried my best to stare him down, and then our standoff was broken, luckily for me, as Shin and Julia came back to the table, laughing and arguing about who had to pay for the next round of drinks.

Vicious broke the stare, moving off to join the other two as I stood there, wondering what the hell had just happened.

The dream faded, and I felt myself unwilling drifting up towards consciousness. The first thing that I remembered when I opened my eyes was the smug little look Vicious had worn before he stepped through the doors of the White Tiger inner sanctuary and Hell had erupted around me. Secondly, my brain alerted me to the fact that there was someone sitting in a chair by my bed, and that my left eye was covered.

I tried to sit up, but having been blown up and ripped to pieces had its effect on my muscles, and I sunk back on the pillows with a groan. The figure approached me, and I was able to pick out Mao's familiar features looking worriedly down at me.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he kneeled by me in the near darkness. I did my best to shrug, but it was only a pathetic imitation. Shifting slightly, I could see some of the tubes keeping me alive reflected in the slim beams of moonlight.

"About the best I can." My mouth was dry and tasted of cotton, and my voice rasped in my throat. _You can probably thank a breathing tube for that one._ I thought to myself. Stupid tubes. I tried to tug an IV out of my right forearm, but the damn thing was taped in too well. "You know how much I hate hospitals, Mao." I croaked. He nodded.

"It was necessary, Spike. You almost died back there." He moved a wrinkled hand to hover over the covered half of my face. "As it is, your eye was lost in one of the explosions, and had to be replaced."

My brain was still too fuzzy from pain medication to fully grasp the implications of this, so I weakly nodded. He continued, voice so low that I had to strain to hear him. "We won't be able to tell if the replacement works until everything is healed enough to remove the bandages. For now, I just want you to sleep."

Vicious' smug grin swam up in my mind. "What about my men?" I questioned. More important to my drug-addled brain, "What about Vicious?" Mao frowned slightly, and looked over at something on the wall that I was suddenly too tired to turn and see.

"He was captured." Mao said simply. As much as I wanted to stay awake and hear the rest, my eyelids began to droop. The old man saw this and stood, gently patting one of the unbandaged spots on my left knee. "I'll tell you the rest in the morning. For now, you need to sleep." I was still awake enough to hear his slow shuffle out my door, and wonder what Mao had avoided telling me.

_God, I need a cigarette._ I thought, and drifted back to that comfortable state of unconsciousness.


	5. Anything Goes

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, Cowboy Bebop isn't my brainchild. It's the delightful creation of Sunrise Inc., and Bandai. (Or however. I really don't pay that much attention.) Either way, I'm not making any money off this story. It would be really great if I did though, considering that just about all college students are dirt poor. (End rant.)

Thanks to everyone hanging on to this story. I again sincerely apologize for the long wait between chapters. My muse decided to go on vacation for a while, but she's back now whispering ideas in my ear. Onward ho!

**Chapter 5:** Anything Goes

I drifted in and out of sleep for another day or so. It really wasn't that exciting; lying in a hospital bed with nothing to look at but the ceiling. Unfortunately, it gave me a lot of time to think. As Vicious had once remarked, it was dangerous when anyone gave me time to think.

The hours passed by slowly, and my brain cast itself back to the past few weeks. The growing animosity between Vicious and myself became less worrisome as time went on. He may have been the closest thing I had to a brother within the syndicate, but there was bad blood running between us now.

I focused on that little smirk he had worn before stepping through those ornate doors and the warning he had issued me days before concerning Julia. There was something hidden there, and my mind replayed it in a constant loop. No matter how long I puzzled over it, things didn't make sense.

Vicious had claimed many girlfriends in the past, but he had never issued any kind of warning to me before. The women were a pastime for him, nothing more. I wondered how he had met Julia, and how she was different. She WAS different, and something told me it had to do with how I had ended up in this sterile building for old timers with failing organs.

Time for me was measured in the intervals between meals. While hungrily wolfing down what vaguely resembled chicken and rice, I made a list of things I wanted. Number one for me was to get the hell out of this hospital. No more tubes, wires, or nurses who wouldn't tell me anything.

Secondly was to find Vicious. I was still trying to decipher Mao's cryptic comment that he had been captured. How was that possible? I had watched him practically waltz through the doorway with my own eyes. The thought made me pause. Gingerly, I lifted my hand and touched the gauze around my injury.

It was so tightly packed with cotton that I almost made myself believe for a minute that once unwrapped, there would be nothing there but cotton stuffed into an empty socket. For a life like mine, that handicap could mean death. I tried to shrug off the disturbing mental image that brought, and went back to my pathetic meal.

Mao visited me three times in the hospital, but always changed the subject when I asked about Vicious. It was aggravating to have every question pushed aside, but there wasn't much I could find out until I was back on my own.

Fortunately for me, that wasn't long. After skipping out on physical therapy for my right arm, I found myself back in my tiny apartment. A few friends had stopped by before I even had the chance to take off my coat, but other than that I had been undisturbed.

The apartment was dark and musty, so I walked over to the window by my bed, intent on opening it before heading for a wonderful shower. To get to the window, I had to step around the small nightstand by my bed.

Through my good eye, untouched by heavy gauze, I noticed a corner of white sticking out from underneath the alarm clock. My curiosity has never been one to wait, so I yanked the piece of paper out, knocking the clock onto the floor where it landed with a thunk. _Oh well._ I thought, kicking it underneath my bed. It was quickly forgotten as I unfolded the note.

A warm scent of cologne drifted up to me as I read the unfamiliar handwritten script.

_Spike, _

_I stopped by to see how you were, but one of your friends said that you were in the hospital. Vicious said that you had been hurt while on security detail, and I was worried for you. Please call and let me know that you're all right._

_Julia_

A phone number and an address not far from my own apartment followed. My brain couldn't comprehend the simple note, and I had to read it over several times before everything registered. Julia. She had been worried about me. And she had been here. The thought warmed me in a way that layers of blankets never could.

Adolescent thoughts filled my head as I went to take my shower. For the moment, I forgot about Vicious and the warning he had given me about her. After I dressed, I would go over to her place. Anywhere had to be better than this lonely little apartment, especially in the company of a beautiful woman.

A beautiful woman who belonged to my former best friend. I paused midway through putting on my right shoe and focused on that. I wasn't doing anything wrong going over to her place, was I? It wasn't like I was going to sleep with her. I just wanted to reassure the beautiful angel that I was fine and get to know her a little better.

There was nothing wrong with that, right? I grabbed my keys and was out the door before I could think about what I was doing.

_CAREFUL, COWBOY…_


	6. Daydream Believer

**Disclaimer**: Cowboy Bebop and its characters are the property of Bandai and Sunrise, Inc. I'm not making any money off this story. Sorry it's been such a long time between updates, folks, but I've been really busy and also really lazy. This story is going to be a romance for at least the next two chapters, so bear with me. Thanks for the reviews, o faithful readers, and please keep 'em coming.

**Chapter 6: Daydream Believer**

As I walked down the street, I caught myself humming an old Earth lullaby. It was something my mother used to sing occasionally when I couldn't sleep. Odd how a song about cradles falling from tree tops could be comforting, but I guess kids never really listened to the words.

Before I knew it, I was standing outside the apartment building, staring up at the address that matched the flowery handwriting on the letter I still held clenched in my hand.

I pushed open the lobby door as I switched to whistling a lively jazz tune. The letter went into the breast pocket of my coat, close to my heart. There was a mirror near the entrance, and I ran a quick hand through my mess of hair before sprinting to the stairs leading to the second floor.

Outwardly, the apartment door looked just like any of the others in the narrow, poorly lit hallway, but I knew who was behind that door, and realized my heart was pounding. It wasn't from the brief flight of stairs behind me, but from the sudden impact of what I was about to start.

_Face it buddy, you're looking forward to this._ I chewed my lip for a second. If I turned around now without knocking, she would never know I had been here, and we could continue playing our little game; whatever that was.

Poised to finally knock, the door swung inward, and abruptly Julia was standing in front of me. I can't even begin to imagine how much of an idiot I looked like standing there, fist in the air. It certainly wasn't the way I had planned this meeting to go.

She stopped expectantly, as if she had been waiting for me, and we just stared at each other. There was a beat of silence. For a woman, she was impressively tall, a fact I had forgotten from our first meeting in the bar. Her blue eyes began to water, probably taking in the still-healing bruises on my face, and then her arms were around my sides, squeezing tightly until I let out an embarrassing squeak of protest. _Gotta tell her about that bad arm._ I reminded myself.

"Spike." She pulled back, and I winced against my will at the strong throbbing in my arm. _Maybe skipping therapy **was** a bad idea. _The pain was soon forgotten as her soft, perfect hand caressed the left side of my face. There were no words to say. Her simple letter had said it all for me, and I knew that this was what I had been waiting for. She loved me as much as I loved her, and the best part about it was that we didn't have to say it. I did later anyway, but that's beside the point.

I leaned into her touch, but it was broken when she pulled me by the front of my shirt in through the doorway. "You shouldn't be here." She hissed, and cautiously shut the door. It was then that I noticed what she was wearing. The ruby red evening dress sparkled in perfect contrast with her pale skin. Even with the background of her homey little apartment, she looked like a queen.

Somewhat confused as to why she would be dressed like this at home, I could only shrug. "All dressed up with no where to go?" I joked. She frowned. God, even her frown was beautiful. "Spike, tonight's the Syndicate ball." Realization hit me. _Shit! _I glanced at my wrist, but in my haste to get here, I had forgotten my watch.

I vaguely remembered Mao mentioning something about the Syndicate bigwigs getting together to wine and dine each other soon, but I had no idea it would be tonight. "You have to go. Vicious is coming to pick me up in a few minutes." She continued to talk as she moved around the apartment, shoving on one high heel as she grabbed for her purse.

"He can't know that you've been here. You know how he is, Spike." She moved to stand in front of me, holding a matching ruby wrap for her shoulders. I took it from her, and then kissed the delicate skin of her neck as I folded it around her.

She edged away from me with a wistful sigh, and placed one of those delicate hands again on my shoulder. "Please Spike, you have to go now. He could be coming up the stairs, and if he finds you here…" She turned away for a second to grab her purse.

I pulled her close to me, and we shared our first kiss. The spark I had felt across that smoky bar was nothing compared to this. Her unwillingness to be caught melted from her, and we shared a miniature eternity before it was broken by a sharp knock at the door.

Julia gasped softly, and made shooing motions with her hands. "Go! He can't find you here! Wait a few minutes until after we've left, and be careful!" I took the unfamiliar apartment in with a glance, and decided my best chance for a hiding spot would be in the bedroom. I had just wedged myself into the closet when I heard Vicious' rasping voice and her soft answering murmur from the next room.

I closed my eyes and the image of Vicious' smile at the White Tiger fortress danced before my eyes. There was a rattling noise from the living room, and then the door slammed. Silence. I let out a breath that I didn't know I had been holding and smiled to myself. I was reminded of the old cliché of the lover hiding in the closet, and laughed once into the stillness.

As per Julia's instructions, I waited at least ten minutes before cautiously sneaking out of the apartment building. Outside, the air smelled sweeter than it ever had before, and I sucked in deep breaths as I walked down the street. I was finally living the life I had waited for, and it felt good. The entire walk back to my apartment, I began to plan for the time when she could be by my side forever.

_KEEP DREAMING, COWBOY…_


	7. To Where You Are

_**Disclaimer: **Cowboy Bebop and all its characters are under the copyright of Bandai and Sunrise, Inc. No infringement intended._

**Author's note:** Sheesh! Sorry people. I didn't realize it had been almost two whole months between updates. Ducks a rotten tomato Er, heh. I just wanted to say, don't give up hope on me! And to avoid any other copyrights, this chapter's title is one of the tracks off of Josh Groban's debut CD. There's lots of free time, now that I have a month off from classes and work, and hopefully, I'll start updating this story on a regular basis again. Crosses fingers Anyway, here's the next installment. Enjoy, and please review. Please?

**Chapter 7: **To Where You Are

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_. Daylight streamed in through a crack in the heavy shade, particles of dust drifting lazily in and out of the golden beam. I opened my eyes, hit the snooze button on the damn alarm clock, and then rolled over. _I don't care what time it's supposed to be. _I thought, and pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

What seemed like only seconds later, the alarm was sounding in its particularly annoying way again, and I shut it off. The urge to throw it through the window was strong, but I rolled out of my comfortable bed, and headed for the bathroom.

Before I shut the door, I glanced at the clock. The red display read 9:30. Good. There was enough time for a quick shower and a cup of coffee before I had to be at headquarters. I grabbed a towel off the rack, and wriggled out of my sweatpants. The hot water rolled steadily down my back and I leaned back into the gentle massage. Over the sound of the falling water, a gentle ringing sounded. I cursed loudly. _The phone! _

I reached over to shut off the water, but my depth perception wasn't what it used to be. My right hand grabbed for the handle, and missed. Muttering generalized threats, I grabbed for it again. The ringing sound on the damn telephone only grew louder as I fumbled for the handle. Like a kick, a wave of nausea suddenly attacked my insides. I doubled over, both the shower and the phone forgotten.

A wave of white static replaced the now-familiar darkness in my cybernetic eye, and I felt reality going fuzzy. The phone ringing took on a dream-like quality, and the white static began to pulse in my brain. I wasn't aware that I had been screaming until the shower ran cold and I snapped out of my trance.

I was curled up in a fetal position on the floor of the shower, throat hoarse. My body was shaking from the cold water, which had been running for God-only-knows how long. My right shoulder had begun to bleed through the stitches, and it ached heavily as I pushed myself to a sitting position. The water was freezing, but I managed to reach the handle and pull it to the OFF position with no problems.

After drying off, I ran a comb through the tangle of mop-like green hair, and tucked the towel around my waist. I reached for the razor in its stand at my right, and pulled back from it. My reflection in the mirror looked no different than usual, aside from the oozing stitches in my shoulder. I rubbed away the remaining steam, and blinked. My image blinked back. And then, it hit me.

My eye! That blast of light which had landed me in a ball on the ground to begin with. A nurse had removed the bandages shortly before my release from the hospital. My eye had remained shut, covered in yellowish purple bruises. Only now, it was open without my conscious thought, and it was working. Actually, transmitting would probably be a better word for it. I gingerly explored the flesh around it, and sucked in a breath. It was a lot sorer than it looked.

I left the bathroom and went to pull on some clothes. As I passed through the living room, I noticed the answering machine blinking. The memory of the far-off phone ringing sidetracked me, and I headed over to see who had been so desperate to get a hold of me so early in the morning. I pressed the PLAY button, and waited.

There was a long pause, and then a quiet shaky breath. Julia's low musical voice played over the tiny speaker, and I smiled in spite of the crappy morning so far. "Spike, its Julia. I…I wanted to talk to you. I know it's early, but could you come over as soon as you get this?" She hesitated, and I could almost imagine her crystalline eyes shifting back and forth warily. "It's about Vicious." My eyes narrowed as she hung up with a loud _click._

_Vicious? _My mind echoed the name, and I hastily retreated to the bedroom to get dressed. Whatever it was, Julia needed me, and I intended on being there. A few minutes later, I was out the door, still buttoning my shirt. One flight of stairs and out the door, and I was on the street, walking briskly in the direction of Julia's apartment. In the city skyline, the Red Dragon headquarters loomed over all other buildings.

It reminded me of the summons to appear before the three old stooges that were the so-called heads of the organization. In actuality, Mao ran things; the three old men were more like England's monarch on Earth-a figurehead. I glanced at my watch. The meeting was supposed to start in another ten minutes. Without hesitation, I made my way for Julia's apartment. The Syndicate could wait. It had existed for almost a century, and I wouldn't be the one to bring its downfall by skipping a meeting.

Besides, Julia needed me more.

_ONE EYE SEES THE PRESENT…WHAT DO **YOU** SEE?_


	8. The Clock Strikes One

Wow. Um, hi? You may remember me as that slacker author who used to post stories once in a while. Yeah, that one. I am so sorry for leaving this one basically as a cliffhanger for...holy crap, has it really been that many _years_? Well, time goes quickly when you're...uh, okay, I have absolutely not excuse for this long of a lull between updates. Please accept my apologies, all. Don't kill me! I swear I'll be good. I'll get someone to chain me to my computer (not like that's much of a problem) until I update. I WILL get this story done by the end of the month, I swear it on the grave of somebody famous.

**Chapter 8:** The Clock Strikes One

_I look back on those last days of my old life less and less now. Even after all the time that's passed, it still hurts to see that we were all on a fast track to Hell with the windows down and the music blaring. God, we were idiots. I can say that now with a smile - not because I've come to terms with my past, but because I have made a grudging peace with it. _

By the time I arrived at Julia's apartment building that morning, I didn't even bother knocking; it was pointless. She knew I was coming because the door was unlocked. That simple gesture said everything. Her place was not in the best part of town, and anyone could have come in. I had just opened my mouth to say so when her voice cut me off. "Hello Spike."

The profile of an angel. I could just see the tip of her nose from where she sat , hands folded on her lap as she stared out the window at the pouring rain. The lovesick fool I was stood on her carpet, water dripping from my clothes and darkening the carpet until it looked like blood had pooled around me. I hadn't even realized it was raining.

She didn't even turn to look at me, or scold about ruining her carpet like all other women did. Not that it mattered anyway. The apartment was Vicious' doing, so she could be closer to headquarters whenever he felt like stopping by to take whatever he wanted from her. I never learned this particular fact until much later. Not that it matters much anyway. Julia was too much like us - dead just enough on the inside that things like soggy carpet or abusive boyfriends don't really affect us like they should.

I wanted as she just sat and stared out the window, motionless. The questions I had constructed on the way over had all disappeared, leaving only the ticking of the clock in the kitchen to fill the silence. One question finally worked its way up, relentlessly tickling the back of my throat until I croaked it out. "How was the ball last night?"

The only sign she had heard me was a slight tipping of the head forward until molten blond hair covered even the pale tip of her nose. "Julia?" I took a step towards her, and then another until I was close enough to catch her as she fell off the chair and landed in my arms. My bad shoulder was still too weak to support even her slight weight, so I hid a wince as best I could and settled to the floor as she crawled into my lap, shaking. "It's all wrong, Spike." Her voice was muffled in my neck, and I suppressed a shudder as her warm breath lapped over my skin. Even now I wanted her, as I had that first night so many months ago when we first met.

"What's wrong?" I mumbled. Dealing with women's emotions always made me feel awkward. I rubbed a hand over her back in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, pausing as my fingers brushed over a spot under her ribs as she hissed involuntarily. "Don't." She pulled back, and I sucked in a breath as I caught a glimpse of her face.

"Julia-" Faint bruises were visible under her makeup. I reached a hand up to trace the marks on her skin, but she turned away, again hidden by her hair. Realization settled over me, along with a deep anger that only grew as I tried to understand. "He did this to you?" She gave a bitter little sob, and wiggled out of my grip and my lap. I tried to touch her shoulder to offer some kind of comfort, but she pulled away. Another feeling - shame - flared into life then. I had known about the Syndicate ball, but there had been a follow-up to the Scarred Hand incident that the Elders had assigned me to take care of, and by the time I had stumbled into bed the night before, the party had been in full swing, so I had decided to skip it entirely.

This was my fault, for not being there to protect her. I told her as much, and she shook her head, finally meeting my gaze. "It wasn't you, Spike." She swallowed, and looked down at her hands before returning her gaze to the wall. "I went out a couple nights ago for some drinks and darts with Lin and Shin. Apparently Vicious had assigned someone to watch me. I think he decided that my actions were not...appropriate." Her voice cracked on the last word, and I watched as she bit her lip. "Vicious, he -Spike, he doesn't trust you anymore." I held back a snort as the mental image of his smirk in the White Tiger hall crossed my mind. Double-crossing was Vicious' second talent - a fact that had been hidden from me until only recently.

She turned. Even with the light bruises on her face, she was beautiful. I would have willingly taken on the entire Syndicate with one bullet, given up my privileged life and everything else I ever wanted had if she had only thought to ask me. The bruises and a shallow cut near her eye were my doing - even if my hands had never touched her that way - because I hadn't been there to protect her. _The thought hurt then, and it still hurts now, even after she's lying dead on a rooftop near old Annie's store._

"I love you." I said. It wasn't something I had intended, but it was too late because the words were hanging in front of us like the smoke from the stale cigarette I had puffed on the way over and I couldn't take it back. Didn't matter though, because it was true, planned or not. I moved to run my fingers through the long strands of her hair, and then she was kissing me with all the life and passion that Vicious had attempted to take from her. If he could only see just how badly he had failed...well, let's just say the Gate Incident would have paled in comparison. That thought made me smile, and it was the last thought not involving Julia for a long time.

_If Vicious hadn't trusted me around Julia before, he had ever right after that day. I missed the meeting, needless to say. It wasn't the first one or the last. My increasing absences did not go unnoticed, however in those brief few weeks I could have cared less. What we first did that day is not something I really need to go into, but it is one of the few memories I've deliberately held onto all these years in comparison to all the things I've managed to forget. The anger and the growing hatred for the creature who had once been my best friend flared brightly that day, and only Julia stopped me from going after him then. Funny how the opportunity for the proverbial roll in the hay took precedence over justified violence at that point, but then again I can't say I've had too much to be proud of in terms of most of my past choices. _

_All I can really say about our affair now is that I had so little time with her. On the day I die, if God Almighty asks me if I have any last words, I will have no problem telling Him that he's got a pretty bad sense of humor. That rainy morning I pulled the pin on my old life, began plotting to take down the man who I had once thought of as my best friend, and the best way to fake my own death. Vengeance and violence and my own downfall...what a way to start the week._

_TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK..._


	9. Crash and Burn

A/N: Here's chapter nine: where stuff goes down. As always, this is my not-particularly canon interpretation of How Stuff Happened, so my apologies if this particular narrative doesn't exactly seem like it follows the timeline. Hopefully I'll get this story over and done with by the end of the month...probably about two more chapters planned and in pre-production as of now, but this may change.

**Chapter 9: **Crash and Burn

_Life in a large crime syndicate is never pretty. Sure the pay was good, but risking life and limb at the constant whim of the Elders was hardly worth it. The men and handful of women under their beck and call constantly lived as if every breath of air could and would be their last. For some, this was true. Within the first few months after Mao took me under his wing, several younger operatives had come and gone - put on goodwill transfer to our ally syndicates, Mao explained. I always complained that I was young, not stupid. He always answered this reply with a soft smile, which was my unspoken reprimand. _

_Now I understand that he was simply trying to protect me against one of the harsher realities of our lives, but at the time I had wished in not so many words that he would stop treating me like a kid. Death was not easy. Surviving the death of a comrade was not something anyone talked about. People who had been partners for years sometimes snapped, earning them whatever injuries the Elders' bodyguards decided to inflict on them as the survivor tried to take out their rage and hurt on the wrinkled old creatures who had ordered their partner - their friend - into death. _

_Gradually I was eased into this life of violence and death to the point where I learned to depend on no one but myself, because there was no guarantee anyone would be alive to stand with me at the end. Maybe I thought my dedication to Mao and my new life was enough to keep me safe...I was an idiot._

_My blackout after the White Dragon shootout had lasted longer than my memory ran. When I woke up at the hospital that morning over two months earlier, Mao had filled me in on the fact that the loss of my eye hadn't stopped me from shooting my way out, and stumbling all the way to Julia's apartment before collapsing on her doorstep. Even now, I can't remember how I knew my way to her place. Somehow I got there that day, trusting my feet to lead me. _

_It was mid-March when I first died, still slightly cold, but warm enough to manage a cold drizzle rather than the shriveled snowflakes that characterized the dry Martian atmosphere. Since the first day I had admitted to Julia that I loved her, plans had been forming in my mind for our escape. A two-person transport off-world, maybe Venus. Earth was still too dangerous with the hourly meteorite showers. I wanted to be dead in the eyes of the Syndicate, not for real. There was still someone to live for. _

Everything had been arranged. Our ship was set to leave in three hours. The tickets for a Mr. and Mrs. Luke Smith were booked, and a duffel of the few irreplaceable objects I owned sat near the door of my apartment, ready to go when I stopped by on my way to the graveyard.

God, these memories hurt sometimes. I could really go for a cigarette right now, but one of those wonderful cancer sticks in the Swordfish's cockpit probably would be the best way to burn up my oxygen and leave me a floating corpse before I've had the chance to land and face my old life.

The last job was supposed to be a small one. Lin and Shin were smart kids - they knew something was up by the way my fingers twitched over the holster of my new gun. Its unfamiliar weight was nonetheless a comfort against my palm as I reached inside my coat for a new cigarette. The Glock was gone, pawned for the transport tickets. My new weapon was a Jericho, the stylish equivalent of Vicious' sword, which he continued to thumb in and out of its sheath as he leaned against the wall across from me. I wasn't about to tell him that the shiny new gun in my holster was given to me with a kiss and a promise from his old girlfriend, but the thought made me smile, and this was a welcome contrast to the gray moods of the others.

I took a long drag from the cigarette, hoping the damp paper would continue to burn as it threw my former best friend's angular face into pale view against the early evening rain. This waiting thing sucked. Behind me, I heard Shin give a soft sigh, and turned to give him one of my dazzling grins. The poor kid was dripping water from the tip of his nose all the way to the edges of his trench coat. He looked up as I snorted, offering me a small smile before resuming an apparently fascinating examination of his soaked shoes. His brother, positioned behind Vicious, shot us both a look as if we were two misbehaving children. I rolled my eyes at him, earning a frown. There was a soft shuffle outside the mouth of our alley. The target was finally on the move, and I was relieved to get away from my disgusting spot. In a flash I dumped my cigarette and slid the Jericho out of its holster, years of training guiding it to my hands as I focused on the five shadowy figures moving towards the edge of the pier.

The Red Dragon's latest target was this shrimp of a man surrounded by four beefy bodyguards. They made it about fifteen seconds away from their ship before Vicious used that creepy speed of his to take out two of the men with a few slashes before anyone was the wiser. He ducked out of the way as the survivors turned and began to fire, which was my cue.

I never felt bad for killing. It was what I was paid to do, and I justified it by deciding that they probably deserved it anyway. Maybe my near future will have me moving towards some divine being who will finally judge me on these acts, but I really don't care. Just about anything is better than living this life now.

One went down on my first two shots, and I was already calculating how many more bullets I'd have to waste on these hired muscle types before reloading when one of them got a lucky shot through my cover, and there was a heavy grunt behind me. I spared a glance from my hiding place behind a bench to see who had been hit. Lin had fallen to his knees, his gun lying on the ground as the wounded arm trickled blood down the wrist from a hole in the upper bicep. Unlucky kid. Tough chance of me going to help him at this point, but a bullet in the arm wasn't fatal. He would be okay for a few minutes.

I turned my attention back to the action. Although worried for his brother, Shin was aiming for one of the last remaining bodyguards while Vicious crept up behind our target. Now was my chance to get out, and I planned to take it.

My legs almost gave out on me despite the adrenaline pumping through my system as I stood. "Hey, Dumbass." I called. The last of the bodyguards and the target whipped towards me as I raised my hands. "Sorry about your buddy." Behind me, Lin hissed my name. I ignored him and stepped out from behind the bench as the bodyguard raised his gun to the center of my chest. "So what did you do that the Dragons sent out some of their top operatives to take you out?" I let the Jericho hang on one finger, smiling slightly and moving forward as it swayed back and forth. "I'm just curious, you know. Thugs like us don't get to know the why of our jobs, y'know? Makes a guy wonder."

This had to be the stupidest trick in the book, and from his crouch behind the two, Vicious shot me a glare to confirm my thought. Behind me, Lin was alternately sucking down air noisily and clutching at his arm, having apparently already given me up for dead. Shin was nowhere to be found, but that wasn't troubling. What might throw this whole plan off was if he or Vicious managed to distract their attention before I got to the edge of the pier. For once in my life, I prayed. Playing the part of the idiot buddy has always been one of my specialties, and I continued to yammer on as I edged around them all, getting closer to the open water until I was practically gagging with the particular stench that characterized all the engineered bodies of water on the planet. Found out that the target had been some researcher who decided to jump ship when his new designer drug had attracted the Syndicate's attention. Not the brightest bulb, but at this point I didn't really care.

I could tell the last bodyguard had an itchy trigger finger, as even in the rain and fading daylight the only movement he made was to tighten his grip. 'Just watch me.' I thought. 'Just watch and learn, you moron.' So attentive was he to me that he had failed to remember the silver-haired demon until the blade was slicing open his throat. The man's gun discharged into the street as Vicious made a clean cut, his fingers entwined in the soaking hair as he held up the head and turned it towards the shaking target. "The Red Dragons do not take kindly to people who do not keep their promises." He said, holding the dripping head up next to his own and smiling that enigmatic smile of his. I had to grin. Ever a man of few words, Vicious still knew what to say when he had to. A telltale wet spot blotted out the remaining dry part of the target's otherwise soaking slacks, and he began to blubber.

The situation was breaking down. That bodyguard had been a part of my plans, and now he was a headless body lying on the street. Shit. I glanced over to where Lin lay, now under the careful ministrations of his brother. I stood with my back to the water and watched as the younger tore a strip off his shirt, eased the torn coat off his sibling's shoulder and carefully tied the cloth around the wounded arm.

Vicious continued to speak softly to the man behind me. I was glad for both distractions, as it gave me time to think. The bodyguard was supposed to shoot me, and now said asshole was dead. Inside my head, things were beginning to fall apart. A shuffle behind me, and I whirled to face a worried Shin. "Spike, are you an idiot?"

I managed a shrug. My muscles all felt stiff, and I was already thinking of when I could get home and call Julia before crawling into bed and rethinking this whole thing. "Not as much as that guy." Shin had just opened his mouth to retort when I heard one of those desperate screams, the kind uttered in a good Bruce Lee film when the villain makes his last run at the hero even as he knows he's going to end up worm food. I felt as if someone had pushed me, and glanced at Shin to see if it had been him as some sort of weird joke. His eyes were wide and mouth agape as if in on some kind of universal joke I had yet to hear...and then the terrific bang I had heard made sense.

My attention went back to Vicious and the target. Funny, the one time in his life Vicious wasn't fast enough with that damn sword was when some random idiot unknowingly helped me to end mine. Never thought he had it in him. _Sonofabitch._ I had enough time to watch as the target turned the overlooked pistol to his own temple, and then I was flying backwards out over the pier. This had turned out better than I could have planned. Before I hit the water, there was one final gunshot, and then the water closed in over my head.

_BANG BANG, HE SHOT ME DOWN..._


	10. Washed Away

Well guys (and girls, no offense intended), this is the end of the end. I hope you enjoyed reading, and please don't roast me over a pit of flames for not getting this out by the end of March like I had promised. (HAHAHA, me promise something and follow though?) Thanks again for reading, and if you enjoyed it, please let me know.

**Chapter 10: **Washed Away

_Even now, I can still feel the punch that bullet packed. My chest aches with the memory, and I rub it with a wince. Outside my cockpit, the stars twinkle over Mars. Maybe the Universe is really winking at me, in that 'Yeah, right, you're not getting out of this one' kinda way. All I know is that remembering my past life and literally hovering over the place where it all happened...it kinda fucks with a guy's mind. _

_I rub a hand over my face. God, I'm so tired. Faye threatening to shoot me back there and then firing into the bulkhead as I jumped ship for probably the last time...I hadn't thought I could ever feel that tired, but the act of remembering makes me want to take a quick nap. Who am I kidding, though? If Lady Luck or whoever - whatever - balances out all this cosmic shit decides to humor poor old Spike Spiegel this one last time, I'll have plenty of time to sleep before too long. Hell, I'm not even above accepting cosmic pity at this point._

_My fingers unconsciously reach for the pack of cigarettes I keep in the breast pocket of this ratty old jacket, but only hit air. I want a good smoke right now. The stars outside my cockpit blink out as I close my eyes and try to imagine the feel of a good drag burning through my lungs._

There's one final drag left of my cigarette before it's done and I drop it into a puddle. The roses I'm carrying are starting to drop petals and look sorta droopy. At this point, it's part of the ensemble. My clothes were dripping as I hauled myself out of the harbor, gasping and aching from the point of impact on my chest all the way down my right arm. The stupid vest that had saved my skin earlier had become so waterlogged that I could barely keep my head above water. Swimming had been sort of a half-assed dog paddle under the pier as far as I could manage out of view from my former comrades.

Of course, Julia wouldn't be able to notice, not with the way the afternoon drizzle had turned into a steady downpour. And me without an umbrella. I stifle a snort, and pat my breast pocket again to feel the thin plastic covering our tickets off this hell of a planet. They could get soggy all they wanted now, since the transport left over two hours ago. Could be more, could be less. My watch hadn't made it past my dip in the frigid harbor, but my gut told me it was too late.

I stood in that depressing cemetery, imaging Syndicate eyes all around and feeling exposed among all the ancient tombstones. My only protection was the Jericho Julia had given me making a comfortable weight against my side. It was probably the only dry thing within a ten klick radius. Finally a crow cawed loudly, making me jump.

The fricking bird sat in a branch practically over my head, and I couldn't help but gawk at the sheer size of it. Almost like Vicious' creepy pet, but without the red eyed intelligence. It cocked its head at me, and I gave it the finger before jumping a tombstone and heading towards the spaceport to thumb my way off world.

_Crows were the bringers of bad news, according to old Earth legend. At least that's what I remember from the babblings of high school literature classes. Either way, that dumb bird helped me make up my mind that soggy freezing day. I found out that some poet said they could say "Nevermore" or some dead chick's name, or something. Doesn't matter now. _

_My hands are freezing. Either I'm getting too far into this recollection, or it's just fucking cold in here. Not like that's saying much, since space isn't really too friendly to us warm blooded types, but the Swordfish's engine is generating a little heat. I crank up the temp, and the ship around me rumbles dangerously. I turn it back down with a sigh. Dead men don't really need to be warm anyway. _

_Time to get this over with. One of those last battles did some serious damage to my baby that Jet couldn't fix, and she's feeling it. Once we're back down on that planet this old ship can take a rest, too. _

_Somebody wish me luck, if you're listening. I want this to all be over. I want to be back in Julia's arms and for it to be _right_ this time. I want to end it with Vicious - the end of the blows we've dealt each other and all the shit that went wrong with one of the only people I ever considered a friend. I want the Bebop to either make a little shrine out of my room, or forget me and get on with their lives._

_We've all got places to go. No sense in getting worked up about it. My place is a glittering planet currently taking up all the space in my viewport. It's so bright that it even manages to blot out the stars. Since my eyes are adjusted to the dimness of my cockpit, the light makes me wince. But it's not a bad light, really. I want to turn my face away and deny the inevitable, but this light isn't harsh or blinding, and it might be the last one I get to see. Who knows?_


End file.
